


Protecting The Family

by Internpup



Category: Lost Boys (Movies)
Genre: Child Abuse, Domestic Violence, Everyone Is Gay, Gay Male Character, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Movie: Lost Boys: The Tribe, Mpreg, Original Character(s), Social Issues, Social Justice, Vampire Hunters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 17:51:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12869850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Internpup/pseuds/Internpup
Summary: Cassidy, a child welfare worker, meets a family that puts him on edge. Edgar Frog and his family are strange and intense and Cassidy doesnt know if this vampire hunter is suffering a delusion or really protecting his family from the undead.Either way, hes go to do something about it.





	Protecting The Family

Brian pulled up on the grass on the edge of the field. He checked the address on his phone, and eyed the collection of trailers and vehicles parked illegally there. He had been here before. It was a known spot for homeless families to park without risking being moved on by police every night.

It was a mixture of vehicles, some he recognised from his case load, and others he didn't. Some of the residents were living out of cars and vans, pitching tents outside of the car when they had a safe place to do so, others keeping a lower profile by keeping all their activity and belongings inside. Other families were lucky enough to have RV's, and they would move from place to place throughout New York, parking where they could, in church parking lots, public parks, and clandestinely in residential neighbourhoods. It was near impossible to keep a job, or attend school full time when moving around like that, but they had a roof over their heads and if they were lucky, caring parents trying to get them back indoors when they could get together the money.

The report had come from one of the other families in the village, which was a rarity. Though Brian had dressed down for this encounter, wearing new jeans and a smart zipped sweater, it stuck out clearly enough what he did. As he walked towards the collection of vehicles, he felt the spike of fear, and saw parents rushing children out of sight, and the glares of parents whose children had been taken into custody. Someone had been concerned enough about this family that they had broken ranks and made the call.

Luckily his new case today stood out, so it took no time to find them in the ramshackle village. The vehicle was parked on the other side of the field, eschewing the security and support offered by gathering with the others. The old RV had been extensively modified. Bars covered the windows, and the door had likewise been reinforced, but was propped open. There were signs bolted to the side: "NO TRESPASSING" and "PRIVATE PROPERTY", in addition to a circular symbol, with what appeared to be teeth crossed out. From this distance, his sharp eyes could see two young children in the grass, busy with something, while an adult man in what looked like military fatigues was repairing something on the trailer.

Brian started across the field, and walked towards them. The alert adult spotted him approaching, and ordered the kids inside. They bolted for the trailer and shut the door behind them. Their caretaker waited for Brian. "You aren't wanted here!" He called in a deep, gravelly voice, arms not crossed, but hung ready at his sides. Brian's time as a police officer and detective told him that this was not an indication of relaxation, but that the man was ready to reach for a concealed handgun under his loose camoflage jacket if need be. 

The child protection officer slowed down and raised his hands so the man could see he was unarmed. "Woah, woah, slow down, we dont have to start off on the wrong foot. My name is Brian Cassidy." He kept approaching, but slowly. "I'm not the police, I'm from child protection, we got a call thats all. I'm here to check it out."

The man looked him up and down. "My children are none of the state's damn business." He stated. "You and the whole social services industry are run by shit-sucking vampires, and target people like us who are trying to bring it down."

Brian absorbed this. "I can promise you... I am not in league with vampires, at least as far as I know." Brian took a look at the man. He was short, and Brian towered over him, but his agression made him seem larger. He had tribal tattoos creeping up his neck from the collar of his fatigues, and his long blonde hair was tied back with a bandana.

"Don't come any closer." The man warned. "We have you in our sights. One wrong move and you will have a crossbow bolt right between the eyes." He said this with such deadpan calm that Brian believed him. He stopped dead, and looked at the trailer windows, trying to spot the second person, but all the windows were shaded, and now that he was closer, he could see that firing ports had been installed in the sides of the trailer. No wonder these people had freaked out the other families in the field.

The man approached him, and stopped a few paces away. "Take one step forward." He ordered.

"One?" Brian asked, looking at the ground for clues. He noticed that he was on the edge of a line of white powder which curved around in each direction, disappearing into the grass. "What is this?" It wasn't any kind of trap that Brian could imagine, and the mystery deepened his anxiety.

"Just do it. Step over the line."

Brian took a deep breath, and did so. When he was safely over the line, and absolutely nothing happened, Brian let out a laugh of relief.

The man in fatigues frowned. "I see nothing funny here." He barked, but Brian sensed a palpable reduction in the man's tension. He'd passed some kind of test.

"Show me some ID." He demanded. Brian slowly reached for his pocket, and produced his wallet. Out of it he took his drivers license, and a business card. "This is what I have. We dont get ID cards. Can I ask what the white stuff is?"

"Salt circle. You aren't a member of the undead or The Host." He said seriously, examining Brian's ID. He pocketed the card, and returned the license. "If you are really a civillian as you claim, you need to install a circle in your home. Many supernatural beings can't cross it. Most notably, the common vampire."

Brian nodded. "I'll think about it."

"You don't believe me." The man said, eyeing him. "Do you have children?"

"I don't. Not yet."

"I assume you care about children, given your career choice." The man continued. "There is nothing more dangerous than ignorance. You and any unguarded children are in danger every moment that they live in this world, where predators hide in every shadow, and the public can't see them, can't hear them, and know nothing until one of their own disappears." The man glanced towards his trailer, and then scanned the field with an intesity that reminded Brian strongly of one of his coworkers in the Special Victims Unit, Elliot Stabler, whose constant battle against invisible predators had eventually torn him and his family apart. He looked back at Brian. "Your ID only tells me that you have no rights to be here on my property, but that you do have some power to make our life difficult. What is your goal here?"

"I am here to make sure your children are safe and cared for. I don't want to make your life difficult, I'd like to help if-"

"We dont want or need your help." The man interrupted.

"Ok, cool, cool. I need to make sure your kids are safe. That is my whole job here, and how about we start again, and now that you know I'm not undead... how about introductions?" Brian extended his hand. "Brian." He repeated.

The man considered for a moment before taking his hand. "Frog. Edgar Frog. Surf shaper, and vampire hunter."

Leaving the Vampire Hunter claim alone for a moment, Brian asked: "Not much demand for surf shaping in NYC, is there?"

"Not really. We are just passing through." Edgar agreed.

"Where are you from originally?"

"California."

"Which town?"

"Do not mistake the fact that I am allowing you onto my property as trust, Mr. Cassidy. We are still enemies, I am allowing you certain latitude because I value this base of operations for now." He said tersely.

"I do have to ask a certain number of questions, but I am good to keep this to a minimum if that makes you more comfortable Mr. Frog." Brian replied. "To do that, I need to meet the rest of the family, anyone staying in the trailer with you, and see the living conditions. I also need to see what food you have on hand for the kids and see that any weapons are correctly stored to keep them safe."

Edgar narrowed his eyes. "Stay here." He ordered, and went to the door of the trailer. He knocked with what was evidently a key rythm, and heavy locks scraped back. He stepped inside, and there were whispered voices. After a moment, Edgar returned, with two children following shyly behind him.

They were twin girls, about seven years old, each with long dark hair. One wore a flowing skirt and no shoes, her dress looked handmade with neat and methodical stitches tying together a kalidescope of colour. She stood behind her father, and regarded Brian with fearful curiosity. The other had her hair tied back and wore patched jeans and a t-shirt with small holes in it. She glared at Brian.

The child protection officer knelt down. "Hello ladies. My name is Brian. I am here to see how the family is doing."

"We know who you are." The bolder one replied. "You are from the government. We're fine."

"I'm not saying you're not. I just need to make sure." Brian answered. "Whats your name?"

The little girl looked to her father for permission to answer. "Mary-Jane Frog."

"Mary-jane, thats a beautiful name. Unusual." Brian commented, taking a note on his pad of paper.

"It's from a comic book." She explained. "Spider Man's girlfriend in the early comic books is named MJ. The new movies mis-cast her completely."

Her father put a restraining hand on her back. "Stick to relevant information only."

"Sorry." The little girl said quietly, and said no more.

Brian took mental notes of the control their father was exerting over the whole process. He had known almost since he had approached the trailer that he would be back. There were a number of concerning elements to this story. He moved on, looking at the other little girl. "And you?"

"Pepper." She said, still hiding behind her father.

"Is that also from a comic book?" He asked.

Edgar grunted. "Move on."

Brian stood up. "Are you their biological father?"

"Yes." Edgar replied.

"And their mother?"

"Not with us." He said, deliberately vague.

"Has she passed away, or is no longer in your lives?" Brian probed.

"Their mother, went down fighting the war against the undead. Chris made the ultimate sacrifice, and died a warrior." Edgar said sharply, putting his hands on his young daughters heads to comfort them.

"I'm sorry to hear that, and I know these are hard questions." Brian said carefully. "But when was that?"

"Last year." Edgar replied quickly.

"Who else lives in the trailer?"

"Sam Emerson." Edgar raised his voice, and a man stepped out of the trailer. What had he been doing while Brian interviewed the children? Hiding what? Drugs? Weapons? He dusted himself off and offered a friendly handshake. "Like he said, name's Sam. Don't mind the whole paranoid security freak thing. Edgar, you've made this guy feel seriously unwelcome." He was also short, a similar height to Edgar, with short blonde hair. He was lean and had probably once been beautiful, but hard living looked like it had aged him before his time.

Edgar shrugged. "He is unwelcome."

Sam sighed, and looked at Brian as if to say 'cant take this guy anywhere'. "I hear you want to inspect the trailer." He said, and waved Brian towards the fortified monstrosity. Edgar followed, and when Brian glanced back, he sensed the tension return as the three of them stepped inside. Edgar and Sam definitely had something to hide. Brian had to grab a hand rail to get inside the trailer. He stepped carefully over stacks of paper and dusty boxes of comic books on the stairs, and looked around. The place was packed with all the belongings of two adults and two growing girls, as well as a bewildering assortment of books, comic books, maps, and documents. Every surface was cluttered with things, including, it seemed the beds.

"So may I ask what is your relationship?" Brian asked the two men.

"You may not ask." Edgar replied.

"I need to know how you relate to the children, Sam, thats all." Brian clarified.

Sam waved his hands vaguely. "I'm like an uncle. They just call me Sam. Edgar and I grew up together."

"But you aren't related to the children?"

"Not.... directly." Sam glanced at Edgar for an answer. It was easy to see who was top dog even among the adults.

"Thats great, thats what I need to know." Brian didn't probe further. In this crowded RV, Brian felt trapped and vulnerable. He wouldn't be able to make an escape if something went south, and he felt his questions were treading a fine line.

"Where does everyone sleep?" Brian asked. Sam pointed to a set of bunk beds which made up the hallway. They were stacked with clothes and belongings, but there would have been marginally enough space for two seven year olds to sleep. "And yourselves?"

Sam waved to the back room. "We share the master bedroom." The tour continued, with Brian asking more probing questions. What was their income? What did they do? Odd jobs, Sam worked at bars and restaurants sometimes. Edgar had savings from the surf season in California. How much food did they have on hand? Fridge broken, but enough dry food for the family, water containers on hand, bathroom functional. Edgar let Sam answer these questions, and Sam chatted away without Edgar butting in, but the man was listening closely. The place was a mess, fire hazard, and crowded with humans and belongings, but the children were well clothed, and seemingly fed. It wasn't any of this that was worrying Brian, it was the control dynamics he was observing, the scant information, the strong delusional mental illness in the father, and the staging that had clearly taken place before Brian had been allowed in. Sam obviously hadn't been cleaning or tidying, to judge from the sink full of old dishes, and moldy tin cans forgotten among the detritus, so he had been hiding something.

"Where is the crossbow?" Brian finally asked. "The one you had pointed at me."

"Right here." Sam shrugged. "It's legal in all states. Nice one too. The chicks dig it." He took out a key and unlocked a cupboard, and hung in the locked cabinet was a heavy compound crossbow. Brian had never seen one before, but it was clearly the real thing. Brian tested the trigger lock was properly in place. "Wow, very impressive. The.... ammunition?"

Sam opened a locked drawer nearby. "Bolts are in here. Always locked."

"Licensed?" Brian asked.

"Dont need one for a crossbow." Sam replied.

Brian had no idea what the regulations were for obsecure hunting weapons, so he accepted this and would look it up later. "Do you do a lot of hunting?" He asked, instantly aware how stupid the comment was in this context, as he was standing with one, perhaps two, career "vampire hunters".

Luckily neither men elected to answer that. Brian wenty back on script. "Do you have any other weapons."

Edgar answered before Sam could. "No." He said simply.

His friend glanced at thim. "Yeah thats it basically."

Brian looked between the two of them. "Basically?"

Sam put his hands in his pockets. "Thats it."

Brian nodded slowly. "Well thanks for putting up with all the questions. I'll be in touch. Do you have a cell phone number I can contact you at?"

"No." Both of them in unisen. Sam babbled on some obvious lie about having lost his, but Brian wasn't listening.

"So theres no way to contact you two later today?"

Edgar stepped up to him, and looked at him seriously. "We have answered your questions, and shown you that our children are safer here than anywhere in the outside world. Now leave. Darkness is coming and we have things to do, and you should be indoors by nightfall. It isn't safe for civillians right now. Things in New York City are happening that you won't have the slightest idea of until you feel fangs on your throat or you lose a loved one. Stop wasting our time."

Brian nodded silently, seriously unnerved. "All right... Yes. Well. I'll be going I guess."

He turned and tried not to look like he was running away, but still tripped on a box of comics on his way out and stumbled out onto the grass. The children watched him from under the trailer, where they had hidden themselves, and he caught for a moment two pairs of intense, frightened eyes. Brian straightened his sweater and set off across the grass, the back of his head prickling as he was sure he was being watched. He glanced back when he heard the squeak of the door and the scraping of locks. The children had disappeared inside and the family locked themselves inside the crowded trailer, hiding from imagined monsters outside.

Once he got to his car, he scrambled for his notes, trying to get down all the bizarre and concerning details before he forgot anything. "Highly controlling father... Paranoid delusions...All family decisions likely based around delusions.... Interview of children highly limited.... Will need to interview children apart from family members.... Suspected staging of home.... Chris(tine?) = Mother of twins, deceased(?), father claims killed in war against undead. Real circumstance?.... Not safe to return without backup.... Mobile in RV, might flee.... Intervention/Investigation needed immediately... "

The control that Edgar exerted over his family, and had no doubt exerted over the childrens mother, was terrible. Raising children to fear and believe everyone outside their family unit might secretly be a monsterous predator was itself abusive, and would allow their father to keep them locked up behind barred windows for the rest of their lives.

Something was biting at the back of his mind however. Edgar didn't read like other controlling parents he had met, the fear and concern he felt for the family, and for Brian's safety..... had felt real. Instead of a sinister and abusive parent, this could be a parent in the grip of genuine mental illness, and the vulnerable family members had been caught up in this delusion.

Either way, if he had anything to do with it, the girls would not spend another night in that trailer.


End file.
